“Understood, your honor.”
“I had intended to spend the day lying in bed, attempting to heal my withered self, but Mr. Kincaid here thought it necessary we have this emergency hearing.”
“My client has never been in jail before, your honor. And she’s not enjoying it.”
Derek ignored him. “Enter your appearances.”
“Myra Mandell for the United States of America.”
Ben examined Myra Mandell unobtrusively out of the corner of his eye. He thought he’d met most of the lawyers at the U.S. Attorney’s Office, but he’d never seen Myra before. She was young and obviously nervous. Blonde, anorexically thin, with large wire-frame glasses. A bit of a squid. Must be tough to be so low on the totem pole you get sent to 8:30 bail hearings. Obviously this hearing wasn’t of sufficient import to merit the personal attention of Alexander Moltke himself.
“Benjamin Kincaid for the defendant.”
“Speaking of whom,” Derek said, “where is she?”
Ben cleared his throat. “Ms. McCall seems to have been…misplaced.”
“Misplaced?”
“Right. Somewhere in the bowels of the criminal justice system.”
“I might’ve expected something like this from you, Kincaid.”
“Don’t blame me, your honor. I’m not in charge of prisoner processing.”
“You’re responsible for your client, and furthermore—”
At that moment, the courtroom doors opened. A large, strapping federal marshal entered, with Christina close at his side. She was wearing loose-fitting orange coveralls—standard issue for federal prisoners—that made it impossible to escape and blend into a crowd.
“Excuse me, your honor,” Ben said. Without waiting for a reply, he strode to the back of the courtroom.
“Glad you could make it,” Ben said.
Christina nodded. “That makes two of us.”
Ben noticed she was handcuffed. “Is that necessary?”
“Standard procedure,” the marshal said matter-of-factly.
“Just as well. She might overpower you.” Ben took Christina’s arm and led her to the defendant’s table. “What happened to you?”
“I was delayed. There was a disturbance in the pat-down chamber.”
“Can you be more specific?”
Christina shrugged. “I happened to tell this beef-brained three-hundred-pound matron that her strip-search technique lacked finesse. She then threatened to pound me into the pavement.”
Ben covered his eyes.
“Prisoner or not, I don’t have to take that kind of guff from anyone. There was a scuffle. Marshals came running. Someone set off an alarm. There were reporters nearby. Everything got confused.”
“I get the general picture.”
“Like I said, I was delayed.”
“Just sit down, Christina.”
“Tout de suite.”
There was a sound of thunder from the bench. “Mr. Kincaid, do you suppose we could get on with this?”
“Of course. Your honor, we’re asking the court to set bail and release Ms. McCall, pending trial. Ms. McCall is a longtime Tulsa resident, she’s employed here, and she has numerous local ties. She has no prior criminal record. There’s no indication that she poses a threat to society or that she is likely to repeat the crime of which she is accused.”
“We oppose this motion, your honor, and seek detention,” Myra Mandell said. “Ms. McCall shot a man four times in the head at point-blank range—”
“That’s yet to be determined,” Ben interjected.
“Accused of shooting a man.” Myra pushed her glasses up her nose. “This is a drug-related homicide, your honor, and narcotics offenders have a very high jump-bail rate. Ms. McCall could be on a plane to an extradition-free South American hideaway before we can hold the preliminary hearing.”
“That’s prejudicial and inflammatory,” Ben said. “My client shouldn’t be detained on the basis of statistics.”
“We’re not dealing in certainties here,” Myra said. “We’re just trying to save this court the embarrassment of being deemed a weak soldier in the war on drugs.”
Ben threw his legal pad down on the table. “That’s grossly improper!”
Derek banged his gavel. “Please stop whining, Mr. Kincaid. The court is capable of recognizing an improper argument without your simpering objections. Give us some credit.”
He shifted his attention to Myra. “Despite your noble sentiments, Ms. Mandell, I don’t think I can justify not setting bail in this case. Much as I might like to.”
Thank God, Ben thought. He had worried that Derek might refuse to set bail out of spite, because of his deep-seated animosity toward Ben.
Derek continued. “Bail will be set in the amount of five hundred thousand dollars.”
“Thank you, your honor,” Myra said, smiling.
“Five hundred thousand dollars!” Ben exclaimed. “Your honor, that’s impossible!”
“Mr. Kincaid, do you want me to set bail or not?”
“Your honor, she’s a legal assistant. She can’t possibly raise enough to get a bond—”
“Do you want me to set bail or not?” Derek repeated, emphasizing each word.
Ben held his tongue.
“Very well. If there’s nothing else—”
“There is one other matter,” Ben said. “I have another motion.”
“Yes?”
Ben hesitated. He glanced at the people sitting in the gallery. “Could we step into chambers, your honor?”
“No. If you have a motion, you can make it in open court.”
“May we at least approach the bench?”
“No, counsel, you may not,” Derek said, his voice rising, “and this is your last chance. Do you have a motion?”
“Yes, your honor. We move for recusal, pursuant to Title 28 of the United States Code, section 455. We want you to step down from this case.”
Derek’s eyes flared. “On what grounds?”
“On grounds of your extreme prejudice, your honor. Your inability to decide this case in an impartial manner.”
“Your honor,” Myra said, “we oppose—”
Derek cut her off with a flip of his hand. “Explain yourself, Mr. Kincaid.”
“Your honor, I used to work at the same firm you did.”
“For a mercifully brief period of time.”
“In fact, I worked directly under your supervision.”
“As you may be aware,” Derek said, “conflicts of counsel are not grounds for recusal. If you feel your presence will prejudice your client’s case, you should step down.”
“Furthermore, you used to work at the same firm as the defendant, Ms. McCall. In fact, the two of you worked together on more than one occasion.”
Derek squinted, peering across the bench at Christina. “I don’t remember a Ms. McCall.”
“Nonetheless, she was there.”
“Well, I can hardly be expected to favor a person I can’t remember.”
“That wasn’t exactly my concern,” Ben murmured.
“Are you suggesting that when I was in private practice I or my firm served in any capacity with regard to the matter now before the court?”
“No, sir.”
“Then your motion is denied, Mr. Kincaid. What’s more, the court finds your motion offensive in the extreme. In fact, the court would probably issue sanctions; such action, however, would undoubtedly prejudice your client”—he paused significantly—“especially given the extremely early trial date I anticipate. So I will not issue sanctions. But neither will I forget.”
He slammed his gavel on the desk. “This hearing is adjourned.” He shambled out of the courtroom, rubbing his back.
Ben flopped down into the chair beside Christina.
“Did you have to bring that recusal motion now?” she asked. “In front of everybody?”